Husband by Inheritance
by RiaMarie81
Summary: Due to a mysterious bequest, Emily Bennett has just inherited her dream house complete with an emotionally damaged ex-cop her daughter has decided would make the perfect daddy. Can they be a family or has Damon's loss closed him off from love for good?


**A/N: I don't own The Vampire Diaries. This is an all human A/U story. I just like the idea of Emily and Damon together and came up with this story. Please review and let me know what you guys think. **

**Chapter 1  
**

* * *

Emily Bennett packs the last of her and her daughter Bonnie's possessions into the U-haul attached to her beat up old car. This was a new start for the young single mom and she was going to make the most of this unusual situation.

"You know you don't have to leave Em." Lucy Bennett hugs her cousin tightly not wanting to let the young mother go.

"Lucy, you know I can't stay in your guest room forever. You and Alaric and having a baby now and it's time for me to settle down with Bonnie." Emily appreciates everything Lucy and Alaric have done for her and Bonnie but it was time for Emily to make her own way.

"Hey your family and we don't mind having you and Bonnie here." Alaric pulls Emily into a warm hug and drops a gentle kiss on top of Bonnie's head full of soft chocolate curls.

"I know, I know. I love you guys." Emily smiles softly and straps a sleepy Bonnie into her car seat.

"Just be careful. I don't like this whole inheritance and the stipulations that go with it." Alaric was weary of this sudden large gift left to Emily. He heard about how eccentric Shelia Bennett had been but to leave Emily a house on certain conditions just seemed a little off.

"Don't worry Ric. I'm not seriously thinking of getting married just to keep a house. I'll enjoy it for a year and save my money. When the time is up then I'll have enough money saved to get a nice little place for me and Bonnie." Emily too didn't like the idea that if she wanted to keep the house Shelia left for her she would have to get married within the year of living in the old house.

Emily isn't going to question her great aunt's choices. Shelia always had a way of doing things that she felt were best for her family. If she wanted Emily to have the old Bennett home it was for a reason. Emily wonders if she can figure out what Shelia wanted her to gain from living in Mystic Falls Virginia. The petite brunette just hopes it wasn't only to find a husband. Men have no place in the busy single mother's life.

The drive from Buffalo, NY to Virginia takes Emily twelve hours. Her three year old daughter Bonnie has spent most of the drive sleeping or babbling quietly while coloring a multitude of pictures to decorate her new bedroom with. The adorable toddler is the only thing keeping Emily sane through this rough time.

Emily glances at her precious little girl and knows that whatever Sheila Bennett's reasons are it'll all work out in the end.

* * *

After all this time, Damon Salvatore still sleeps as if there is a possibility of someone sneaking up on him and pressing a gun to the back of his ear. Even in Mystic Falls, Virginia, where that was virtually impossible. The sleepy small town's biggest crime in the past two years has been a couple kids vandalizing some parked cars.

He lay awake, now, listening to every creek and snap outside wondering what small noise has woken him at three am. His muscles are tense, ready, waiting for whatever dangers that can be lurking at this time. Damon relaxes for a moment deciding that it was just some stray cat disturbing the quite night and not the squeak of the old Iron Gate.

The blue eyed former cop allows himself to relax and tries to clear his mind. The counting of his even deep breaths helps to keep the memories that like to creep up on him at bay. Always at this time of night is when the emptiness of his bed is a glaring reminder of all that he has lost.

Just as his icy blue eyes close the sound comes again. The soft muffled crunch of someone's steps moving swiftly up the walk. Damon jumps from his bed clad only in simple pair of black cotton boxer briefs and stealthily moves from his bed to his widow. The familiar groan of protest from the warped board of the second step alerts him to an intruder.

Thieves? Well he was sure that they would be disappointed. He has no stuff they would be interested in taking. Damon's loft apartment was Spartan. No TV, no stereo, just books and his computer. He once had an interest in stuff but that seemed like another lifetime. He has trouble remembering things like that.

Though Damon has a flash now of his wife, smiling chocolate eyes looking back at him as she shows him the ridiculous price, but there had been something else there too. A wistfulness that makes his chest throb painfully at the memory. The pain comes when he remembers what they had been looking at.

A bassinet.

Damon clenches his jaw and focuses on the intruder outside the house. A certain darkness descends over him that does not bode well for his intruder.

Clad only in the black cotton boxer briefs he sleeps in, he makes his way through the darkened house. His movements stealthy, cautious, and icily calm…second nature to him. Damon slides open the back door just enough for him to deftly slip through undetected.

A plan quickly forms in his mind as he swiftly makes his way around to the front of the large looming house. The prowler will be trapped on the narrow porch and have no choice but to go through him if they wanted to get away.

Damon darkly smirks to himself as he thinks that this intruder has picked the wrong home. The home of Damon Salvatore, agent, drug investigation unit, retired.

The mist of the cool evening is thick and swirling about providing enough cover for him. The cement is cold under his bare feet as he quickly makes his way silently towards the dense overgrown shrubs near the front porch.

Damon watches intensely as the stooped figure tries yet again to open the front door. The fog is too thick to barely make out a vague impression, a build too slight to be threatening to him. A baseball cap…must be a teenager.

Damon is sure he can take him without too much trouble. Maybe he will call the cops. Elijah might be working tonight. The two could exchange war stories after everything is taken care of. At least this way Damon won't have to go back upstairs and to his bed where the painful memories are waiting for him.

Knowing that calling the cops is still an option, knowing that he won't take it, Damon moves quietly out of the shadows and up the front steps. Suddenly it occurs to him that maybe he should have taken out his service revolver out of retirement.

It would seem that someone without the physical build to handle a confrontation would like to even the odds with a knife. That could be particularly true for a kid who tries to break in a house at three o'clock in the morning. Damon's mind works quickly and he decides to keep his distance and act as if he is packing. Might be hard considering he's only wearing boxers but he could still pull it off.

With his feline grace Damon steps up the stairs and with the cold authority that comes so natural to him he barks out a stern order. "Put your hands up where I can see them. Don't turn around."

The small figure bolts upright and freezes. "You heard me. Hands up."

"I…I can't." Fear has made the voice high and girlish with a slight rasp to it.

"You can't?" Damon says his voice cool and hard. "You better."

"I might drop the baby." The voice is so soft and quivering slightly.

The baby? Damon takes the steps two at a time and grabs the tiny figure. With his hands on the intruder's shoulders he spins him around. _Her_ around…

_Two hers_, a full grown her and a baby her, both looking at him with huge saucer eyes, a pair of deep chocolate and a pair of emerald green. Damon drops his hand from her shoulder and runs it through his damp inky black hair and swears under his breath.

When her small foot makes contact with his shin, Damon is reminded, painfully never to forget rule number one. Never let your guard down, ever.

"Fire!" She screams. "Fire!" Damon reacts quickly and clamps his large hand over her mouth before she manages to roust the whole neighborhood, something he isn't exactly dressed for.

Damon takes a good look at her. She's beautiful, silky black hair tucked neatly into her buffalo bills cap, a few strands loose and framing her soft face. A face of utter loveliness…latte colored skin, high cheekbones and a shapely nose. Her full lips shaped like a perfect double cupids bow are hidden beneath his palm.

But it is her eyes that do strange things to Damon's stomach. Large almond eyes the color of rich espresso are her most stunning feature. Long thick lashes frame them perfectly and kiss the tops of her cheeks as she blinks. The combination is nothing short of astounding.

Those eyes are staring at him intensely and are shiny with unshed tears. Damon curses lowly. He just doesn't do crying females. She is shaking now and little her is staring up at big her with large emerald eyes full of gleaming tears. The baby's small lips tremble as a full on crying fit takes over the small girl. The sound of her sobbing seems to reverberate through the quite night and Damon uneasily glances towards the neighbor's house.

"Promise you won't scream or do something equally stupid." Damon's icy glare is quite intimidating.

She nods and he moves his hand slowly away from her full lips. Damon folds his strong arms across his bare chest and plants his feet in an imposing stance. She walks backwards slowly and pulls her arms tighter around the baby in her arms.

She backs away until her shoulders push right up on the front door. Her eyes are wide as she tries to sooth the baby in her arms. It's a huge baby…a sturdy sized baby. More like two or three.

"Stay away from us, Pervert!" Her voice is still soft and raspy but there is strength in it.

"Pervert? Me…a pervert?" Damon is a little taken aback. He's been called many things in his life but he has never been accused of being a pervert.

"Hiding in the bushes in your boxers waiting for a defenseless woman to come home is what makes a pervert." Her voice is losing the frightened quality and taking on the protective mama bear tone.

"Home?" Damon just stares at her. She must be out of her mind if she thinks this is her home. Miss Sheila would have said something. But Sheila was gone now and a pang of remorse takes over. Damon quickly pushes that aside and locks away his emotions as he is prone to do now a days.

She nods and licks her lips nervously. She looks past him probably for an escape route. Damon narrows his eyes and stands a little taller. He has about eighty pounds on her but she looks as though she is willing to take him on if it means protecting her daughter. Damon wraps his arms tighter around his chest and stares harder at the tiny female in front of him.

"This is my house and I thought you were a prowler." Her eyes widen and the confusion is clearly written on her face. Damon can tell she is exhausted. The blackness under her pretty eyes is obvious. She looks back at the numbers on the wall of the house and seems to be trying to recall something important.

"Oh god…I'm sorry. I…I made a mistake…" To his horror little tears are streaming down her smooth cheeks. She isn't wearing any mascara and he likes this for some irrational reason.

Her shoulders start to shake under her thin cotton hoodie that provides little warmth from this chilly night. Little her begins to cry again as she sees the tears dribbling down her mommy's cheeks. Damon's not exactly sure what to do now. He has not one but two crying females in front of him and all he wants to do is go back upstairs and leave little her and big her down here weeping.

Striving for some sort of dignity big her pulls her shoulders back and lifts her small chin. "Could you point me in the direction of a motel?" Something about her quite strength wretches oddly at a heart, Damon swore only moments ago was cast in iron.

"You won't have any luck. A pipe burst at the Mystic Falls Inn a few days ago. There was a lot of water damage. Next motel is about an hour away."She seems to deflate at Damon's words.

"Why fire?" Damon is curious as to what would make her scream fire instead of help.

"Excuse me?" Big her seems to be confused by the sudden change in his demeanor.

"You yelled fire." He reminds her. "Are perverts afraid of fire? Like holding up a cross in front of a vampire?"

She laughs nervously. "I read once that hardly anyone responds when a woman yells for help but they will when someone yells fire."

"Huh…" Damon decides that she's not from here. Nope he bets she's from a big city. Only someone from a big city would have survival tactics like that.

Her voice intrigues him. It's not sweet like her face. It has a raspy edge to it as she softly whispers to her baby girl. Big her wipes the tears from her cheeks and does the same for little her and places a gentle kiss on her small nose. It's magic and soon little her stops crying and snuggles deeper into her mother's embrace all the while keeping huge emerald eyes on Damon.

She looks around tiredly like she isn't sure of what to do next. The sight of her hugging her little girl is doing strange things to Damon and he doesn't like it one bit. Before he can stop himself he does the one thing he swore he wouldn't do.

"Look…maybe you can stay here for the night until you figure out where your house is in the morning." Her eyes widen and a look of fear flashes quickly over her small face.

"No." She says firmly as suspicion leaps back into her eyes. "I'm leaving. I'm tired and I was driving for too long. I just mixed up the address is all." She hugs her little girl tighter to her chest.

She goes to move past him but the space between him and the steps is miniscule. He sees the color rise into her caramel cheeks dusting them a soft pink. Damon is suddenly reminded of his state of undress.

"Wait right here." He says sternly in his non nonsense cop voice, a man to be taken seriously even in his underwear.

She's scared still. It's written all over her face, scared that he might not be a pervert, but that she might have knocked on the door of Mystic Falls' only axe-murderer.

"I'm a cop. Well ex-cop. I'm retired." He knows she has to see it. In the way he talks, in his stance. The no nonsense way he was able to sneak up on her.

She eyes him wearily as he takes a step back. She flies pass him and into her car. Damon lets her go and listens as the locks in her car click into place. He can't really blame her. He is a very bad man but only to criminals. Damon glances over his shoulder as she tries to start her car. He can hear the unhealthy grind of an engine that refuses to start.

Not his problem he thinks, not at all. Thank god. He swiftly walks back to his back door and orders himself up the stairs. He refuses to think about big her and little her. They are not his problem, he keeps telling himself that.

Damon throws himself onto his bed and waits to hear the sound of a car pulling away. He hears nothing. Not his problem. His mind never does what he wants at this time of night. He jumps up and opens his widow. Her car is still parked on the street right in front of the house.

"Fuck." Damon pulls on a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. "Fuck my life." He groans as the part of him that is buried deep down under his cold exterior, the part that his mother instilled in him, that southern gentleman part and good cop part surfaces. Damon makes his way down the stairs and out the front door. Big her startles as he knocks on the driver side window.

"I'm not going to hurt you or the kid. You can stay the night here." She starts to say no but Damon cuts her off.

"It's too cold to sleep in the car, especially for the kid. Just come inside. There are two apartments. I'm upstairs and you can stay in the downstairs one. There are locks on the door." The idea of locks on the door must resonate with big her because she reluctantly accepts Damon's offer. She hesitantly follows him through the front door and into the large spacious hallway.

She quickly takes off her shoes. Damon rolls his icy blues eyes at her. "What…have you not seen these floors." Big her apparently appreciates the glossy dark hardwood floors Damon had put in as a favor to Miss Sheila.

She stops short and clutches her little girl tighter."Are you really a cop?"

"Was a cop. I'm retired now." Damon watches as her large chocolate eyes take in his appearance. He knows he doesn't look old enough to be retired but at thirty he has been through enough to earn him his gold watch.

"Why aren't you a cop anymore?" She is just full of questions. Damon runs a hand through his shaggy black hair. He's aggravated. This is the most he's felt in a long time. Aggravated but alive. He feels alive.

"Lady I'm just trying to do the right thing. I'm in no mood to play twenty questions." His voice is cold and stern. His cop voice.

"Ok." Big her places little her on wobbly little legs. Damon takes a long look at the small girl in the bright pink sweater with matching knitted hat complete with little pom poms.

Damon swallows roughly. Pink. His wife had been buying pink. Pink little things for a baby that never was. His wife had sworn it was a little girl from the start, which makes it a bitter pill to swallow. Two years and he still wasn't alright. Probably never be alright.

"Can I know your name at least?" Her raspy voice brings Damon from his dark thoughts.

"Damon." He stares at her expectantly with his icy blue gaze. There is nothing remotely inviting about his closed off persona.

"I'm Emily and this is Bonnie." Damon thinks their names suit them but refuses to say anything like that. They are not his problem and by the morning they will be gone.

Emily quietly follows Damon through the spacious apartment while he shows her the linen closet. He scowls deeply as he explains there is a shared hallway and kitchen. Damon would rather be miserable in his bed than down here with big her and little her.

He had a strange feeling that both females could see right into his broken soul. Their large eyes were unnerving in their knowing. Suddenly Emily thrusts Bonnie at him and he awkwardly holds her little chubby body at arm's length while Emily grabs some pillows and a blanket from the linen closet. Little her scowls and pouts effortlessly. Like mother like daughter.

"Me bon-bon." Her voice has that silver bell quality to it that most little girls have. Damon stretches his long arms farther away from him and Bonnie pops her tiny thumb in her mouth.

"She won't bite." Emily says as she quickly makes up the queen sized bed. Damon narrows his icy blue eyes as Emily laughs at the put out look on his face.

"Does she smell?" Emily fluffs the large pillow and drops it on the bed.

"Uh…" Damon pulls Bonnie a little closer not sure if he wants to know what a toddler smells like.

"Bon-bon no smell." Little her pouts meanly as if Damon is accusing her of smelling bad. He pulls her closer and takes a sniff. She smells alright, she smells good. She smells of fresh rain and citrus. Something closes around his iron clad heart, a fist of pain.

Whatever feeling it is it telegraphs straight to little her. She stares at him with round emerald eyes and touches his cheek with tiny wet fingers. "It otay."

Damon uneasily holds the little girl with unruly dark brown curls. Emily notices his unease and hurriedly finishes making the bed. He knows that she can sense that something is damaged about him and he doesn't like it. Not one bit.

Big her takes little her from Damon's nice arms and gives him a small smile. Damon's unease is reaching an all-time high. No female, not even his wife could make him squirm this much.

"Thanks." Emily isn't sure what else to say. Damon doesn't look as if he really wants to be anywhere near her at this moment.

"Whatever...I'll help you get your car started in the morning and then you can be on your way."Damon is trying to keep himself as cold towards her as he possibly can.

"Damon." The raspy tone of her voice is so enchanting. He really wishes she hadn't said his name like that. He doesn't want to be her friend. He doesn't even want to be her rescuer. He just wants her to be on her way first thing in the morning and out of his life.

"Yeah." Damon watches as she glances at his leg. The slight throbbing reminds him of her swift kick to his shin on the porch. He's pretty sure there might be a bruise the next day.

"Your making me very sorry I kicked you so hard." Her small smile does funny things to Damon's stomach. Things he rather not think about.

**A/N: Please Review. Next up Emily and Damon must live together.**


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